


Curse of Stars

by Phylix



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Finding each other again and again and again, M/M, Past Lives, Reincarnation, but it's ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24339136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phylix/pseuds/Phylix
Summary: "A curse," Father lifted the blade. "Shall be placed on your head. May you never find happiness again. In this life, or the next."Suddenly, the world tilted. Everything turned.Destiny drove them together. It was always the same, unchanging since the day the curse was laid upon them both, as star-crossed lovers, ever entwined and ever pulled apart.  The young lovers would meet and fall in love, only to watch as their lives crumbled around them, leading to only more blood and pain, torn apart by his own family.There was no beginning or end, just the endless, eternal cycle.But what if...What if this time was different?
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 7
Kudos: 133





	Curse of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [Resonance: Soulmate McHanzo Zine](https://twitter.com/mchanzine) in 2019/2020. It is paired with lovely artwork from [ Ghostcrebs](https://twitter.com/ghostcrebs) . Thank you so much for reading, and go give them some love. It was lovely to work with such amazing and talented writers and artists. So many people put so much good work into this zine! I cannot believe I was allowed to be among their ranks.

Men at some time are masters of their fates:

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

~Julius Caesar, Act 1 Scene 2

_Hanzo bowed low, respectful to the elders seated before him. Reverent enough that his forehead brushed against the cold floor. His heart thumped against his chest and up through his throat. He worried it was audible to the elders seated regally above him._

_There wasn't any way they could hear Hanzo's heart; the same way they couldn't have known about the young man Hanzo snuck into his chambers at night._

_Still, he could not fathom their reasoning for the summons. Nor could he reason why they stared at him with silent contempt. "Sirs," Hanzo started._

_"Enough!" His father bellowed. Seated front and center, he rose to his full towering height. The torches flickered, bathing the room in an eerie glow. "I have had more than enough of your games. Do you think me a fool?"_

_Hanzo dipped back, hiding the blanching of his cheeks. There was no use denying it, but it did no good to accept it either; instead, he answered. "Father?"_

_Hanzo's arm began to tingle, starting at the fingertips and working it's way up through the marrow of his bones. The dragon coiled tighter. The creature gnashed its terrible teeth and roared to life under his skin. Let me out, it whispered. Let me protect._

_Hanzo clenched his fists. He resisted the creature's pull._

_"-Disgraced yourself, this family!" the older man shouted. The long, silken robes whispered against the_ tatami _mats as he neared. Still, Hanzo stayed bent low._

_The blood pumped and pooled inside his ears, drowning out the other man's colossal voice. Hanzo had been nothing but the dutiful son, learning the ways of the Shimada clan and how to be a leader. He alone was the only Shimada in a generation strong enough to house the imposing force of the spirit dragon, even if now he could feel the beast eating away at his soul and humanity._

_He had never been enough for the elders. Hanzo had given them everything that he had, body mind and soul, and yet, the clan had always wanted more._

_In all his loyal years, he had only taken one thing for himself, one minor thing that would never have impacted his role as the scion._

_Jesse._

_The young foreigner had started as a distraction. He was brash and unapologetic. It wasn't Hanzo's fault he had fallen willingly into the other man's strong arms. Nor was it his intention to continue having the man warm his bed every night. Being with him sent shockwaves of excitement through Hanzo every time he saw that dazzling smile, which had wormed its way into his cold heart._

_Surely, Father had not learned of Jesse. Surely he had not sent spies to follow his only son's movements. Hanzo still followed their every order. Never once had he stepped out of line._

_Forgiveness would come if he could get his mouth to work. If he explained to his father that he had not divulged any family secrets, and he had not broken any rules, forgiveness was assured._

_At least no rules that mattered._

_Jesse._

_The name clutched tight to his heart. It twisted and coiled its way around Hanzo and squeezed until he was sure there would be no breath left inside him. That he would die seated at the foot of his father, with his breath caught in his throat and choking him._

_Hanzo felt the tears burning against the back of his eyes._

_His dragon coiled tighter, slithering higher up his arm. It settled against his shoulder, burning his skin under his silks._

_Protect, it whispered._

_The large wooden doors burst open — a cacophony erupted in an instant. Clanking armor scraped as the soldiers—Father's guards—dragged something into the throne room._

_Hanzo's gut knotted as something dropped beside him and was still._

_"Hanzo," Father spoke with a warning tone in his voice. Slowly, Hanzo raised his head but kept his eyes downcast. He dared not look up. Dared not look over at the form he knew laid beside him. The body took in a deep, rattling breath._

_Relief swelled inside Hanzo at the proof of life. There was still hope._

_"Hanzo," Lord Shimada repeated. Hanzo knew his father's posture. His hands, neatly folded behind his back as he strode forward. He would now start a slow trek, lecturing his only son as he walked the slow circle around him. Lord Shimada would stare down at Hanzo as if he were nothing more than a lowly insect to be crushed under his heel._

_"Do you know what kind of blood courses through your veins? Do you understand that the dragon is a gift granted to you by the ancestors?"_

_"Yes, Father."_

_How could he not know? He carried inside of him the protector of their clan. The terrible power encased inside his mortal body was the source of the Shimada's authority over the land. It was Hanzo's duty to uphold the family traditions. It was Hanzo's burdon alone to see that the dragons lived on after him. The dragons were the only thing keeping the other shogun from surrounding and capturing Hanamura castle._

_Jesse. His sweet, kind Jesse defied all the rules._

_Numbness settled against his breast. Hanzo could feel the beast curling tighter as it slithered around his heart, sapping his strength. He could hear it thrumming in his ears. It was screaming. Gnashing and wailing in his mind, as if knowing what it was beside him. Who it was._

_Hanzo had never felt that anger before. He had felt the loss of defeat, but this was new. The blood boiled under his skin, and heat rose off the back of his neck as he clenched his teeth tighter._

_Again, the form beside him let out a rattling breath before it began to cough; deep, wheezing barks of air that quaked the person next to him. Hanzo knew that sound well._

_Cracked ribs, possibly a punctured lung, he diagnosed._

_The dragon howled._

_"Do you understand me, Hanzo?" Father had stopped his slow procession before his child. He loomed over Hanzo, an imposing figure Hanzo had not heard. Nor had he cared to hear anymore._

_"Yes, Father," Hanzo's lips moved out of sync with time. Slowly, he looked over to the man next to him._

_Warm eyes, the color of honey stared back into his, wet but alert. Those same warm eyes that greeted him each dawn. Brown hair hung loosely around his strong face, untethered from the leather that bound it back._

_Hanzo wished for nothing more than to stroke Jesse's unkempt hair back, out of his troubled eyes, and promise him things would all be better in the morning and that this was only a nightmare that they both would awaken from soon._

_The sound of a steel blade unsheathed made his skin crawl. His father stepped forward; the edge of the sword pointed to the ground. That did not make it any less dangerous. "Hanzo, we cannot allow this outsider to think he can come into our clan and take what is ours. We have worked too hard!"_

_Hanzo closed his eyes, his throat tightened. The purpose of the blade was clear. The family legacy was at stake, all because of his selfish actions, he heard his father say. It was as if the man stood along the opposite side of a tunnel. He sounded so far removed._

_"A curse," Father lifted the blade. "Shall be placed on your head. May you never find happiness again. In this life, or the next."_

_Suddenly, the world tilted. Everything turned._

_Hanzo fell._

________

"Brother, you look awful," Genji's tongue clicked against his teeth, mimicking the way their grandmother used to shake her head in disapproval at their antics. 

Not that Hanzo could blame his brother for saying so. Once glance in the mirror showed the dark circles around Hanzo's eyes. He appeared unkempt, an unusual trait for a man such as him. Hanzo ran a hand through the wild mane of hair, attempting to smooth it out, even a little, favoring his right arm over his left. "It is the nightmares." 

Genji leaned forward. "Oh, you mean _—_ " He made a quick stabbing motion at himself. They had agreed not to speak of Hanamura just yet, neither was ready to have that conversation.

"No," Hanzo's face cracked into a smile. "The other kind."

"Aah," Genji gave a knowing bow of his head and contemplated. "You know, when we were kids, Oba-san would speak at length about the many past lives of the Shimada clan. And how you were the reason the dragons became untethered. I always thought they were fairy tales, like the story of the two dragon brothers. Something passed down with the generations as a way to teach lessons to the children."

"And now?"

Genji shrugged. "Now, I am not sure what to believe. How do you know your dreams are...you know? How do you know they aren't just regular nightmares?"

Hanzo flexed his arm. Under his skin, he could feel the dragons coil around his bones, constricting. He could feel them snapping and snarling in agitation. "They are angry, but I don't know why." He admitted.

"Tell me about your dream, then? Is it the one where you cursed the whole clan for killing your husband?"

Hanzo smiled. At least Genji remembered some of the stories he had told. "It starts with me, seated at my father's feet."

________

_"Any final words?" The man to Jesse's left seemed almost bored as he chewed on the end of the fat cigar. He didn't wait for a response before continuing, the next words coming out as a long sigh, "By the power vested in me—" The sheriff droned._

_Jesse felt his heart beating wildly in his chest as a second man came up behind him and tightened the rope around his neck and checked that his hands were adequately bound. Jesse's knees wobbled as he looked out to the small crowd gathered to watch, fanning themselves with pamphlets as the noonday sun beat upon them. Even the desert wind did nothing to extinguish the blinding heat._

_This wasn't right. Jesse hadn't done anything wrong. Well, nothing crazy enough to make death his punishment at any rate. He was a scoundrel and a cheat, but nothing more. Nothing dirtier than any man in this town. The only thing that separated them was—_

_Jesse's eyes scanned the crowd of men and women, dressed in their Sunday finest to see him off to meet his maker. Each person looked as unfriendly as the sheriff next to him._

_Beneath his skin, that sunburst scar on his shoulder burned. It ached and ripped at his skin like it was a fresh wound and not nearly a decade old. Time had flown. His mind wandered from the noose around his neck and back to that time before. Life had been more difficult, but everything had all felt so right._

_He deserved the arrow, that much was clear. But looking at the beautifully adorned shaft, and the dark, nearly blue feathers of the fletch that protruded from his skin, Jesse knew this moment would change the course of his history._

_And it did. Lord, did it change everything within him, making him a better, stronger man. And that sunburst scar, ugly and angry, was his solemn vow he would never look away, never stray again._

_Hanzo, that beautiful man with those dark shimmering eyes, became his whole world. From first sight, he knew he would be bound to him until his dying day. The gods and fate and his family be damned, Jesse wanted Hanzo._

_Needed Hanzo._

_The man was like fire, burning hot in his veins and keeping Jesse warm. With each, breathless kiss and every torrid embrace, he Jesse knew that he lived only for this man. He existed only for Hanzo._

_Then, in a blink of an eye, everything changed. Jesse learned, amongst the whirlwind of their ecstasy, their love existed in the eye of the storm. Around him, he could see the destructive winds mounting and raging, tearing everything apart as they grew closer and closer. Yet, he could not bring himself to care._

_Jesse believed their love would be strong enough to shelter them from the onslaught. How foolish he had been._

_Now, staring death in the face, he wouldn't make a scene or fight back or anything. He would leave this world with dignity. He would leave the world, knowing that Hanzo lived. He would love again, and in time, forget._

_There was a buzzing in his ears, a faraway noise that seemed to slow the time around him to a pitch crawl. And then Jesse saw him, near the back. Blank eyes watching him with a hollowed expression as two large men, gripped him by either side to keep him upright._

_To make him watch._

_Those hollow eyes that just days before smiled at his. Those beautiful eyes that held a promise of joy and laughter and a lifetime of love shared between them._

_Now, just hollow and empty and dark._

_Blood pumped harder through his ears as the sheriff finished and turned to look at the hangman next to Jesse and gave a short nod._

_Jesse's eyes stayed transfixed on the man there, who now shook free of his guard. The beautiful man who shot forward like a gun, pushing through the crowd with agony on his precious face, screaming something out. Something that Jesse could not hear. Something that Jesse needed to know._

_The two clansmen shot forward in turn, racing like bulls through the crowd, trying to catch the young man. They would be too late though, Jesse knew that. The Shimada's were always just a little too slow._

_Jesse's eyes widened as he gasped._

_It was too soon! He needed more time! He was to have a final word, right? Every man deserves that much._

_A metallic flash caught in the sun and reflected into Jesse's eye. Something dangerous and wicked that existed just above Hanzo's head. It hovered for a moment before plunging straight down._

_The young man stopped, his back keened and twisted. The world crawled to a slow as if time itself mocked him as he watched that young man, his young lord, topple and fall._

_He screamed. He shouted and wretched. Something blight flashed before his eyes just as the ground below him collapsed._

_"Han—"_

________ 

Jesse was screaming into the dark. The last syllable of a word lingered on his lips. He was unable to remember what he had said. It felt so important only moments before.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, endless, angry, and raw. He was unable to stop the shaking and quaking in his body. His mind reeled over that dream again and again. Unable to relax.

His hand shot up to his shoulder, pressing hard against the starburst shaped scar. It ached, as if he had received it yesterday, and not over two decades before—the stray shot from a young assassin who hadn't honed his craft just yet.

It had been a close call.

It only pained him after dreams such as this.

" _—_ Ent McCree," The soothing voice of the AI pulled him back. "Agent McCree, can you respond?" Athena's soft voice washed over Jesse and grounded him. 

Jesse began to remind himself of the facts; he was Jesse McCree, an agent of Overwatch. He was in Gibraltar, Spain, and the year was 2077. 

He was Jesse McCree.

"Agent McCree," Athena said again. "Do you need me to contact Dr. Zeigler?"

"No," Jesse said, carding a trembling hand through his sweat-soaked hair. He could still feel it around his neck, the rope tight and scratching against his skin before the floor beneath him collapsed and _—_

"Do you wish to report on this?"

"Yeah," He huffed, pulling his knees to his chest like he had when he was a kid. Next to him, the monitor hummed to life and filled the room with a blue glow. 

"Good morning, Agent McCree," The computerized voice of the mental health assistant hummed with its generic, soothing tone. "It has been one thousand, eight hundred, and seventy-two days since your last log entry. Would you _—_ "

"Yes," His voice came out, wheezing and gruff. "There was a noose," he began, spilling out all the details as they came to him in one, long tangent. That was how these dreams were. They never came linearly, like a story, but in brief tangents and sensory details. He could remember only parts.

All his life, the dreams had plagued him. Jesse would awaken with a start, sitting cold and alone in a dark room somewhere with sweat rolling from his quivering body, the images behind his eyes replaying over and over again. 

Night terrors, the doctors had said, giving a name to the sensation of screaming and thrashing in the night. Deep seeded nightmares that his mind perceived as real, and his body attempted to fight off. "A symptom of PTSD," from one specialist, "childhood trauma" from another; "guilt from joining Overwatch," from yet another and another. 

And so it went.

Nightmares that came to him, feeling more like memories of a time and place he had not experienced. Languages he could hardly recognize spoken from mouths he did not know.

"I swore I saw it before," Jesse whispered. "It felt so _—_ "

"You are under a great deal of stress, Agent McCree," The AI interrupted him, as it was programmed to do. It would pull him out of his spiral and ground him once again. "Time away from treatments mixed with the stress of confronting a man of Hanzo Shimada's caliber will cause any person to _—_ " 

Jesse let the computer ramble as he laid back. There was a man in the crowd. Those sad eyes, he had seen them before. He had seen it all before. It was only a coincidence he saw the blue spiral of a tattoo on his arm. It was only his mind projecting the older Shimada into his dreams and nothing more.

But those beautiful, dark eyes watching him. He knew he had seen them before, standing over him with his bow raised.

An arrow notched, ready to let loose and tear through his flesh.

His scar ached.

________

_Jesse was unwilling to open his eyes and greet the dawn. Dawn meant he had to untangle himself from the warmth of those limbs of the other and steal away into darkness._

_Soft lips pressed against the juncture of his neck, trailing warm kisses along his naked collarbone and to the starburst of scarred flesh on his shoulder. Hanzo leaned in and kissed at the mark softly. An apology for firing the arrow that pierced his flesh and left Jesse stranded in an unknown world._

_"My dear," the voice, deeper with sleep and lust, whispered against his skin. "It is time."_

_"Why can't I just steal you away?" Jesse kissed along the inside of Hanzo's wrist. The young man's wild smile sent shivers down Jesse's spine. He wrapped himself tighter around the body interlaced around his before rolling them over, pressing his weight into the other. "We have time."_

_"You say that every morning." Fingers stroked through his long hair, working out the knots those same fingers placed there mere hours before. "And each day, you grow bolder."_

_"And each evening you are the one that insists I lay with you," he let out a playful growl before nipping lightly at his skin, careful to not leave a mark._

_"I wish to be with you forever."_

___________

An ache settled deep into Jesse's bones. It wasn't the old, familiar ache that came at the end of training or a mission, but one that crept upon him with age and settled into his back and knees an old pain that drew him into the kitchens on nights like this.

Nights spent brewing coffee with the certainty that caffeine would soothe him into sleep and chase away nightmares. 

He hadn't expected to see the assassin seated calmly at the worn table with a steaming mug in front of him. Quietly, he brewed his own and settled in across from Shimada. "What's your poison?"

"Tea," Hanzo answered. "Grandmother had a recipe meant to ward off the memories of past lives. Mostly, it makes you sleep without dreams."

Despite himself, Jesse chuckled, "Past lives haunt you often?"

Hanzo smiled in return. His firm, calloused fingers wrapped around the warm mug for comfort. "Often enough."

Something inside Jesse's chest strummed like fingers over a guitar and reverberated through his core as Hanzo spoke. When the man was not shouting or barking orders, his voice was pleasant. 

Jesse leaned against his forearms. "And tell me, Mr. Shimada, what makes them past lives?" He meant it as a joke, another wistfulness that would garner another eye-roll and smile from the beautiful man.

Instead, Hanzo's smile fell from his eyes and to the cup of tea. "I expect Genji has spoken to you about the Shimada birthright of dragons? The dragon is an endowment blessed upon every Shimada."

Jesse nodded along, not willing to interrupt. He had seen the brothers in action, manifesting the great, spiritual beasts through their weapons. It was hard to forget such a feat. "One per customer type of thing?"

"For most."

"You aren't most."

"Two," Hanzo continued, "I was born with two dragons. It marks me as a man who has lived before. I have my own, and the one I share with my ancestors."

Jesse let out a long, low whistle and leaned back in his chair. "Sounds like a mighty heavy load."

Hanzo nodded in agreement, "It can be a heavy load to bear, but it is my curse. It's about retribution. My ancestor _—_ "

"It's bullshit," Jesse cut him off. "A man ain't responsible for nothing but the acts He does in this life alone. How _—_ " 

Hanzo's laughed. The archer slowly rubbed his eyes and looked at the cowboy seated across from him. How familiar those whiskey-colored eyes were. Something warmed inside Hanzo. "Apologies, I just feel as if we have had this conversation before." 

Under his skin, he felt the dragons slowly loosen. Hanzo flexed his fingers as the numbness left his limb. It was as if the act of speaking with McCree soothed the creatures into submission.

For the first time since his arrival, Hanzo relaxed.

Hanzo never spoke of his past lives to anyone but Genji; they had been the shame of the Shimada family. 

But Agent McCree, Jesse, felt familiar.

"I have counted at least a dozen previous lives. Each one ended in tragedy. It helped that being virtually a prince allowed me the knowledge that spanned over a thousand years of family history."

"I take it double dragons ain't that common?" Jesse reached across the table and took Hanzo's hand in his. Slowly, he pushed back the sleeve and revealed the snapping mouths of the dragons emblazoned on Hanzo's wrist. "Must have been terrible."

Hanzo shivered. It was like a balm poured over his raw skin. "It wasn't all bad," He confessed with a smile. "Short lives and violent deaths accompanied star-crossed lovers."

"Never figured you for a romantic," Jesse chuckled. His thumb slowly traced the scales with familiarity. He knew how they twisted around his arm without needing to see them. And he didn't watch the dragons. His whiskey eyes stayed on Hanzo's. "A real Romeo and Juliet tale, was it?"

"I recklessly fell in love with a man, and the family did not approve. My foolishness is what lead to his death." Hanzo turned his wrist and caught Jesse's wrist in his hand.

"Bet you were planning on running away with this rouge."

"How did you guess?" Hanzo smiled. "We eloped."

"So how'd you get cursed then, if I may ask?" There was a playfulness in Jesse's voice. Something soft and tender. It was as if he already knew the end of this tale.

"The dragons," Hanzo explained. "My dragon found the human I married to be his as well. The family cursed the man, branding him. They said he would never find peace in the afterlife."

"And you?"

"Every curse has a counter," Hanzo touched the dragons. "Maybe, my curse was to live again and again, until we could find each other again. Maybe as my ancestor laid dying in his lover's arms, he promised to always find him again through the tides of time."

Whiskey colored eyes smiled at him as the man held Hanzo's hand tight, as familiar to him as the dragons on his arm. "Do you think you can find him?"

"Perhaps."

__________

"What do we do now?" Jesse asked. He pulled the warm body of Hanzo closer, burying his nose in the soft black hair. 

Hanzo pulled the arms around him tighter and closed his eyes. Every time before, Hanzo had pictured himself as a young man. Love and life was a vast emptiness that he knew led to meeting the one. In every dream, he was hardly a man, but now… "I do not think it has ever happened like this before," Hanzo confessed.

"Oh?" Soft kisses peppered over Hanzo's naked shoulder. He shivered in response.

"Each time we met young, fell in love, and died foolishly at the hands of the Shimada Clan."

"We ain't young, that's for sure." Jesse chuckled. "And I may be foolish, but so far, death ain't come knocking at my door."

Hanzo hummed, waiting for Jesse to address the final thing on his list. "And the clan?"

"You and Genji are the last of the Shimadas, and I doubt very much your brother is looking to kill you anytime soon."

"So…" Hanzo let the word hang in the darkness.

"So," Jesse echoed. "What next?"

Hanzo leaned his head on the bicep under his arm and pondered. "I…don't know."

"I guess we see what happens next." Jesse's arms coiled around Hanzo and pulled him tight.

Under his skin, the dragons purred contently.


End file.
